Audiences are good at recognising genre tropes. The only times you truly shock your audience will be in the moments your story subverts the expectations they have formed about the story’s genre. Use this fact to your advantage. Pick a story trope, hint at it a little, only to completely subvert it—you can repeat this trick endlessly. Lead your reader down a road they think they know. As they recognise the ostensible ending in the distance and walk towards it, they don’t see the unexpected hidden trap you’ve laid at their feet.

Whenever you think a story is boring, it’s almost always because it lacks structure. An amorphous collection of scenes invariably feels unnatural—like one long, drawn-out scene rather than a complete story. Writers of these stories have failed to think properly about their characters and how they change with the plot. Story structure is, at its most distilled, the illustration of a character’s single defining attribute. Plan your story out into a finite number of acts, marking each with an irreversible action that shows an evolution in character.

Among their many traits, the best stories are unpredictable. Your audience wants to be led along a path with subtle breadcrumbs. In this regard, assume your reader is intelligent enough to recognise your clues. On the other hand, a twist ending will not be appreciated if it lacks any forewarning. You must learn the art of controlling potential energy—like a bow drawn fully taut, your plot must prepare its twist ending with a graduated series of clues.

Everyone sees themselves as the hero of their own story, even if they are the villain of someone else’s. One-dimensional villains may suit simple minds, but to add deep nuance and rich emotional experiences to your story, write a complicated, relatable villain. Don’t pull any punches—clearly justify their motivations with an impactful opening scene. The worst villains are negative, power-hungry, and one-dimensional—avoid these traits like the plague. No matter how you’ve written the antagonistic force in your story, it must be understandable and strongly argued.

Even the most fantastical setting must be grounded firmly in reality. Rein in any attempts to add too many alien concepts into your story. Recognise now that these urges are self-indulgent—there is nothing good in confusing your audience. Characters, places, and objects with unpronounceable names will be forgotten. Use real-world names and concepts to inspire your world-building, and give your audience distinctive, relatable characters.

As a storyteller your role is to immerse your audience in an experience, not to report events. Let your audience arrive at a conclusion themselves with clear evidence: real actions, dialogue, and atmosphere. As a rule of thumb, make your intention to illustrate a point, not to merely report it. By evoking feelings and creating sensations, you bypass your reader’s logical brain and let them effortlessly bathe in the rich worlds you build. Think of this as gently directing the natural flow of a river, as opposed to rigidly forcing a dam in its path.

Stories need conflict, and a perfect character without flaws is hard to challenge. It’s difficult to make an exciting story about some awesome power longer than a paragraph or two. You can, however, make endless meaningful stories about what your characters cannot do. Don’t think that writing your character as an untainted paragon of virtue will make them likeable—actually the opposite is true. People are attracted to each other’s rough edges. Your readers will relate more with your hero if they show issues that taint their character.

A story’s ending bears a special responsibility—if you fail to meet it, then you’ll disappoint your audience and betray the trust they’ve invested in your story. The ending must provide ultimate catharsis, by releasing the main source of tension right at its highest point. Muddling up the release of tension and creating multiple false endings will only confuse your audience. The ending must also distil the essence of the story itself and provide the moral. Creating the perfect ending requires mastering the art of timing. End a story swiftly—the last act should be the shortest.

A story that fails to provide challenges for its characters does not deserve to exist. Too many stories fall flat due to the soft treatment of their characters. Obstacles drive stories. In general the crueller these obstacles are, the better. Be cruel to your characters by threatening what they treasure most dearly. This isn’t to be sadistic—it makes your characters more likeable, relatable, and gives meaning to your story. Your audience will grow to respect you because your plot’s unfortunate turns make it appear more realistic.